


A Little Piece of Heaven

by OhMyGodspeed



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Blood and Gore, Bottom Will Graham, Cannibalism, Character Death, Death, Disembowelment, Domestic Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Drug Use, Drugs, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Gay Sex, Gore, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Necrophilia, Non-Consensual Drug Use, POV Hannibal Lecter, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Resurrection, Surgery, Top Hannibal Lecter, romantic cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 00:10:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhMyGodspeed/pseuds/OhMyGodspeed
Summary: Hannibal realizes that his relationship with Will can't stay perfect forever. Inspired by and best experienced while listening to "A Little Piece of Heaven" by Avenged Sevenfold. Written for Hannibal's GoreFest 2019.





	A Little Piece of Heaven

Will’s breath burned hot against Hannibal’s ear as the cannibal bit down on the flesh of his neck, little beads of blood welling up where his teeth pushed through the skin. Lapping at the wound with his tongue, one of Hannibal’s hands slid up Will’s thigh, pushing his legs apart so that he could make his way between them. Hannibal made his place there, pressing their bodies together as his grip tightened on the meat of Will’s leg.

“You know, you could be gentler,” Will muttered, his voice becoming quieter the more aroused he became.

“I could, but I’ve always found that I inspire the best reactions out of you with a firm hand and a good bit of pain,” Hannibal teased in response, a grin dancing across his lips as he leaned in to bite Will’s neck again, this time just below his ear. As he did, Will let out a soft whimper, the deep pools of blue in his eyes giving way to black as his pupils dilated. “Besides, what would be the fun in keeping you from your full potential?” Before Will had the chance to respond, Hannibal flipped him over and onto his stomach, eliciting a gasp from the washed up profiler. As it turns out, knowingly dating a cannibal-serial killer and helping him evade capture from the authorities was typically grounds for being fired from the FBI. But that certainly hadn’t bothered Hannibal any. Hannibal had the means and the resources to do what he desired from the very moment he met Will — to take care of him. And now? Will finally wanted that, too.

Things were perfect between the two of them. So much so that the idyllic faultlessness they had managed to achieve bothered some inbred darkness that was left, buried deep in Hannibal’s rotten heart. If Hannibal had learned anything in his life, it was that things couldn’t stay perfect for long. Not for someone such as him, at least. And as that recollection dawned on him, the possibility of losing Will to something or someone other than himself, Hannibal paused. 

“What’s wrong?” Will asked, or more accurately whined, pulling Hannibal out of his mind palace and into the moment. He offered Will a small smile in response, affectionately running his hands along his back.

“It’s nothing, dear. There’s no reason to trouble yourself.” Hannibal dipped his head down to press a gentle kiss to Will’s shoulder, doing his best to take his mind off of his momentary lapse of focus. It was followed by a feral grin, revealing the hunger that Hannibal harbored for Will. For his love, for the feeling of his skin against his own, for the taste of his  _ flesh.  _ “Now… where were we?”

***

Fear. It was a contagious little virus, a decrepit and unholy feeling, and Hannibal lamented in the fact that it had attached itself to his once contented soul. Even as he looked upon Will’s face, freshly aglow with the light of the morning sun and the sheen of fresh sweat, a darkness roiled deep in his gut, causing him to sneer at the beautiful sight. Things couldn’t be like this forever. A part of Hannibal wanted to reach out. To smother Will in formaldehyde and keep him forever, enshrining him as if he were a part of that eye, desperately staring up at a God who wouldn’t bother to look back at something so wretched. But Hannibal could never do something so vile as to alter Will’s sacred, tender flesh. Will’s body deserved a much grander end, a complete unison of his mind and body with Hannibal’s. 

Hannibal carefully flicked his wrist, causing the sausage he’d been cooking to roll around in the pan. The mouth-watering scent of cooked meat met his powerful nose and he smiled at another job well done. He was nearly finished cooking Will the breakfast to end all breakfasts, complete with light and fluffy chocolate chip pancakes made special from a recipe Hannibal had learned in France, fresh sausage the two of them had hunted together earlier that week, and hot coffee, black, the beans harvested from only the best farms in Panama. 

“Breakfast is served,” Hannibal said with his characteristic bow-lipped smile, serving Will an overflowing plate for his favorite meal of the day. He was met with a hungry, almost rabid look from Will, and it was a matter of moments before he dug into his food, giving no thought to proper manners as a bit of syrup began to trickle down his chin. It was charming, the way Will found himself so focused on Hannibal’s delicious cooking, and he felt his cold heart swell as he reached out to wipe the syrup away.

But there was one thing that Hannibal hadn’t quite served to Will just yet—his coffee. It wasn’t necessarily an odd occurrence. Will never got around to drinking his coffee until after he’d finished eating, anyways, so it had become routine for Hannibal to hold off on actually pouring it so that the brew would stay warm. There would be something different about the coffee this time, however. While Will was busy, enamored with his royal breakfast, Hannibal turned to the coffee pot and dosed it with just a pinch of the ketamine Buster had been given after the Beast had attacked him. He’d kept the rest of it nestled away in the basement, just waiting for the right situation to use it for. There wasn’t enough ketamine in the coffee to kill him. After all, Hannibal wouldn’t want to sully the taste of Will’s flesh with ketamine sitting there, dead in his veins. Instead, there was only enough to knock him out for the time being. 

Once he had finished preparing the coffee to his precise specifications and Will had found himself nearly finished with his meal, Hannibal poured the coffee into Will’s favorite doggy mug and set it down beside his plate. It was then that Hannibal perched beside Will, grabbing one of the sausages his love had yet to get to and popping the end into his mouth.

“Hey, get your own!” Will said with a little chuckle, playfully pushing Hannibal aside as he leaned in and stole the sausage straight from Hannibal’s mouth. “This breakfast was great! I don’t know why you didn’t make more for yourself.”

“I suppose I just want to spoil you, Will.” That, and Hannibal had his own magnificent feast in mind for later. Eating less now meant it would be easier to fast in the future. To cleanse his body so that, when the time comes, it could be just he and Will, dwelling together in one body, free of any inhibitions. 

“Well, you’re doing a real great job of that.” It was then that Will reached for his coffee, his stomach finally settling under the weight of all that breakfast. As he drank, Hannibal watched carefully, eyeing Will’s Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down. 

“Am I?” Hannibal asked, passing the time by making idle domestic conversation. He pulled Will closer, circling his arms around his waist and burying his face in the crook of his neck. “All the things I’ve done to you, all the things I could do, and you’d still agree that I’ve spoiled you.” A soft sigh passed his lips and he shook his head. “You really are something else, Will.” The two of them sat there like that, coiled in each other’s embrace for a handful of precious minutes before Will’s eyes began to flutter, his muscles growing weak as he began to lean against Hannibal.

“Hannibal? Hannibal, I think… something’s wrong…” Will’s speech was slurred, and soon enough he couldn’t so much as sit up without Hannibal’s assistance.

“Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be alright. I’m going to take care of you.” Hannibal’s voice was a soft whisper against Will’s ear as the little fisherman slumped into his arms, and Hannibal held him close as his eyelids began to quiver. He was already beginning to lose consciousness, the whites of his eyes already overtaking that beautiful blue Hannibal had grown to be so fond of. And as Will’s consciousness finally did blink out, Hannibal scooped his legs into his arms too, holding Will’s body close to his heart for a single, precious moment of tenderness.

But it was just that. A single moment, dedicated to remembering Will as he was that morning. A moment dedicated to remembering that smile, that teasing glint in his eye, and the unbridled love and empathy he held for a monster such as Hannibal. The cannibal’s heart swelled with emotion, and for the first time in a very long time he felt remorse for what he was going to do. But he couldn’t stop now. This needed to be done, if only to preserve the sanctity of their perfect relationship while it was still just that: perfect.

Heart heavy with the cross he had chosen to bear, Hannibal whisked Will to the basement, carrying him as if it took no effort at all. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d taken a body to his basement and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but Will was definitely the most important. Will was the culmination of his entire life’s blood-soaked work. The spiritual bookend to what Mischa had begun all those years ago. 

Letting out a huff, Hannibal set Will down in the little metal and leather chair he’d prepared for him, strapping his arms, legs, and chest into place with thick binders. Even with the ketamine running through Will’s veins, Hannibal couldn’t be too certain that Will wouldn’t thrash when he finally did wake up. His cuts had to be made with surgical precision, after all. This was his final love letter to Will Graham, the love of his life and his heart’s final resting place. Everything needed to be perfect, even if it killed him. 

It was then that Hannibal stepped aside, pulling a particularly large and particularly sharp knife from the rack on the wall and the remainder of Buster’s leftover ketamine from his pocket. He looked it over, observing the way the metal glinted in the low and flickering light, and he smiled. It was finally time. Time to separate Will’s remarkably soft and smooth flesh from his bones and consume him in his entirety. Every single piece of him would serve a purpose, something Garrett Jacob Hobbs would have greatly approved of. And Will had become Garrett Jacob Hobbs in a way, adapting to his psyche in a manner that allowed him to survive the world Hannibal had thrust him into. A world that Hannibal was now taking away.

Will began to stir with a slight nod of his head and a low grumble, his voice rumbling deep in his chest with the sound of a desperate longing to fall back into unconsciousness. But now that Will was awake, Hannibal planned on keeping him just conscious enough to converse, but not enough to feel the entirety of the pain Hannibal was about to inflict. Hannibal may have been cruel, but even his indiscriminate cruelty had its exceptions. 

“Where am I?” Will slurred, his eyes fluttering open as Hannibal knelt down in front of him.

“Home, dearest. You’re at home with me.” A soft and almost pitying smile crossed Hannibal’s lips for only a moment as he lifted his hand to caress Will’s fuzzy cheek, prickly with morning scruff.   


“This doesn’t feel like home.” As Will continued on, his eyes lazily wandered around the room, he squinted, trying his best to focus his gaze on the walls around them. There was a variety of butchering equipment showcased on the walls, all displayed and freshly polished specifically for this moment. Even this little bout of domesticity hadn’t dulled Hannibal’s penchant for the dramatic. 

“But even so, it is home. I have simply moved you to our basement for the time being.” There was a pause as Will struggled to look up and into Hannibal’s eyes. 

“You’re gonna kill me, aren’t you?”

“Don’t think of it as killing. I am simply altering your state of being,” Hannibal began, twirling the knife he held in his hands. “You are perfect, my darling little Will. I just wish to send you off to the next life in this perfect state before you can sully it by disappointing me again.” While Hannibal continued to speak, Will’s face slowly turned from a confused mess of emotions to that of a man resigned to his own fate. Certainly Will knew that it all had to come to this, eventually. There was no other way a relationship with Hannibal could end. Everything came to blood with him, whether intentional or not.

“I thought you loved me.” The betrayal quickly grew on Will’s face, stretching those cherubic cheeks of his into a grimace. That certainly wasn’t the last thing Hannibal wanted to see of him. The cannibal’s face soured and his grip on the knife tightened. 

“Of course I love you, Will.” 

“Then why are you doing this to me—” Will was quickly cut off as Hannibal pressed a hand to his mouth and the knife to his belly. 

“If I were you, I wouldn’t disappoint me in these precious few moments you have left. I’ve heard the pain of being disemboweled alive without a cocktail of powerful painkillers can be excruciating,” Hannibal whispered, lips pressed up against Will’s ear. He pulled his hand away, allowing Will a chance to respond. 

“If it’s anything like being stabbed in the stomach, trust me. I know.” And Hannibal knew that Will understood better than anyone that Hannibal would do just as he said, should Will slip up. 

“Good. Now, are you ready to begin?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” With Will’s permission, Hannibal pulled the ketamine from his pocket and slipped another dose into Will’s mouth.

“In a few moments you shouldn’t be able to feel anything at all.” That was a bit of a lie on Hannibal’s part. Will would be able to feel the pressure of Hannibal’s work and, to a much lesser extent, the sharp sting of his knife. Hannibal wanted Will to be able to  _ enjoy  _ the process just as much as he did. 

“How benevolent of you.” There was a hint of sarcasm in Will’s voice, followed by a brief bark of laughter, but soon enough his eyes grew droopy and Hannibal knew the ketamine was working its magic once again.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, Will. We have work to do,” Hannibal said, one hand reaching up to grip his chin as the other dragged the knife across Will’s old t-shirt, slicing it into clean and even pieces before lifting it from his body. He took the pieces and pressed them to his nose, inhaling Will’s sweet and musky scent. A part of Hannibal wondered when that scent would fade. If, after Will died, there would be a moment that Hannibal actually forgot what Will smelled like. All the more reason, then, to take that moment to forever emboss Will’s scent into the palace of his mind. 

“Can we just get this over with? Apparently, I’ve got places to be.”

“You should be careful with that sharp tongue of yours, lest I cut it out, and I don’t want to do that. Believe it or not, I do enjoy the sound of your voice.” Will was unnaturally quiet after that, something that didn’t sit very well in the pit of Hannibal’s dark heart. This needed to be rectified, now, before the moment was ruined for Hannibal forever. In an effort to change things for the better, Hannibal reached out to caress Will’s soft and hairless chest, now exposed, his rough hands calloused by years of medical work and most importantly  _ hunting.  _ “Certainly you know that I love you, Will. I only want what’s best for you.”

“And killing me is what’s best for me? What’s best for  _ you?  _ Did you even think before acting, Hannibal? We will  _ never speak again _ if you kill me now.”

“So cynical. Who are you to say that we’ll never speak again? God may be cruel, but I am certain he’ll send you and I to the same place. If I’ve done my job correctly, that is. Besides, everybody has to die some time.”

“And if there is no God? No afterlife?” Hannibal was the one to fall silent now, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth in distress. 

“There must be,” was his only reply before he took the knife tight in his grasp, allowing it to become an extension of himself before he thrust it into Will’s stomach. It was all too familiar a feeling—the way his arm moved through the air and the pressure he cut through once he met the flesh of Will’s stomach. Except this time, Will didn’t cry out in pain. Instead, he let out a soft little gasp, the tears falling from his eyes ones of distress rather than injury. As he held the knife there, piercing Will to the core, Hannibal took a deep breath and reached up to cup the back of Will’s neck. The two of them just sat there for a moment, deep in each other’s embrace, until finally Will pressed his face against Hannibal’s, desperate for his lover’s closeness. 

“At least tell me you’re going to make me into something great,” Will whispered against Hannibal’s ear, tickling his flesh a warm, bright pink.

“I can say with the utmost confidence that you, Will Graham, will be my greatest creation. No part of you will go to waste.” It was only then that Hannibal pulled away from him, unlodging his knife from Will’s flesh and leaving the curly-haired mess leaning into that forgotten touch. But Hannibal was not gone for long. Swiftly, surely, he thrust his knife into Will again. 

And again.

And again, watching as the blood began to pool and drip, painting Will’s chest in the warmest color crimson in a manner reminiscent of the Rorschach tests Hannibal was all too familiar with. But when he read Will’s blood, he didn’t see splotches on a page. He didn’t see death. He saw beauty and new life. Will would part from his body on this earth, and Hannibal would honor his memory in the only way he truly knew how. 

Hannibal continued to cut into Will, using his surgical expertise to choose places that would keep him alive the longest, until his hands grew so blood covered that the knife might have slipped from his grasp were he to continue on any longer. Will’s blood, blood he planned on harvesting for a variety of recipes later on, had flooded the basement floor, and as Hannibal looked to gauge Will’s consciousness he found him flashing somewhere between life and death. The blood loss was beginning to take its toll.

“It won’t be much longer now, my dear,” Hannibal said, his voice firm as he moved to rinse off his hands in the sink. “The finale is fast approaching.”

“The… finale?” Will asked, his voice barely audible enough to hear.

“Yes, the finale. The perfect ending to the perfect relationship.” Hannibal leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s pallid and blood covered cheek and smearing his lips in his blood. “I’m going to end your life by taking your heart.” Wiping off his hands and moving towards the wall, Hannibal looked over the rack of sharp, metal instruments to see which would most cleanly and effectively remove Will’s heart and end this once and for all. Even as Will sat there, slowly succumbing to blood loss, Hannibal took his time in choosing. He didn’t want this to end, not yet, but he knew that there was precious little time left to spend with his darling Will. So he grabbed a simple scalpel from the wall and turned to face his love.

“Before we do this, I want to hear you speak. Just a little longer,” Hannibal said, a sorrow in his eyes that even he didn’t think he was humanly capable of. 

“And what would you have me say?”

“Something you mean. Tell me how you love me. Please, Will.” It wasn’t often that Hannibal found himself begging for anything, much less the affections of another human being. But Will was different. He always had been, and no matter how many horrible things that had happened between the two of them, Hannibal knew that he would always love Will and Will would always love him. He was just desperate to hear him say it one last time. “I need to hear it.”

“You, needing something from me? Careful, Doctor Lecter. You almost sound human,” Will said with a wheezing little chuckle, his lungs struggling as blood began to bubble inside and fill them up. But then Will paused, causing the air to go silent between the little sputtering coughs and gasps for breath that he emitted. He was genuinely thinking about what to say, wasn’t he? The thought caused Hannibal to smile and shuffle closer, and soon enough he took Will’s cold and nearly limp hands into his own. 

“Go on, Will. Say what you need to say.” There was hope in Hannibal’s eyes. A hope that prayed that Will’s words would truly be ones of love.

“You’ve manipulated me. Nearly bled me to death. Taken our daughter away. Murdered a litany of people. Wrought catastrophe wherever you’ve gone. You’ve pinned crimes on me and made me think that I was going insane…” There was a pause as Will gathered his thoughts and took about as deep a breath as he could muster. “But no matter what you’ve done, I still can’t help but feel myself drawn to you. Even now I’m drawn to you, as you drug me and stab me and prepare to rip out my very heart. You’ve got your hooks so deep in me that I fear even after I’ve bled to death and died in your arms I still won’t be over you.” There was a certain sparkle in Will’s tired eyes as he spoke, sitting there and looking at Hannibal as if he were memorizing his every feature. 

Will’s words left Hannibal breathless, tears in his eyes as he fell to his knees and wrapped Will up in his arms. He didn’t care about the blood, how it reached up, leaving rose colored stains on his checkered suit as he held his darling close. He undid the binds that held his wrists, his chest, his legs, allowing the two of them to finally partake in one true, final embrace. Will curled around Hannibal with the last of his energy, clinging to him as if he were a newborn child. And in a way he was. Will was going through the painstaking process of being reborn into his afterlife, weathering the pain and fire that went along with such a drastic, albeit inevitable change.

“I love you too,” Hannibal whispered into Will’s ear as he bathed in his blood, drenched wholly and utterly in  _ him _ . In his life giving essence, the closest the two of them had ever come to simply being one. “I want you to take a deep breath for me, Will. It’s time.”

Will did just as he was asked, taking a deep breath as Hannibal put just enough space between them so that he had enough room to work. So that he could use that little scalpel to carve his beloved into a true masterwork, a piece worthy of the perfection their love had achieved. He began by pressing the frigid metal to Will’s soft and pliant skin, parting the flesh just above his heart with ease. Blood began to trickle down, covering Hannibal’s hands like a thick blanket. This was Will’s final embrace. When he reached the ribs he paused, fingers expertly probing past them and venturing deeper into Will’s chest cavity. He massaged the inner walls of skin, touching Will in places he’d never been touched before and eliciting a small whimper of enjoyment from the fisherman, letting Hannibal know that he could feel to some extent. 

“You may feel a bit more pressure for this next part. Tell me if it gets to be too much.” Hannibal did his best to sound as soothing as possible as his fingers latched onto Will’s ribs, steadying his hands amidst all that slippery blood. In one swift motion he snapped them, pulling them back so that he could get a good look at Will’s heart. It pumped away, causing him to bleed faster and faster as Will began to panic. But even so… Hannibal was nearly overwhelmed at the sight. Not because it was too gruesome. No, Hannibal had seen far gorier. Caused much more terrifying sights to come to fruition. But this? Seeing Will splayed out before him caused loving tears to gather in his eyes. He had never seen anything more beautiful than this, and as the two of them sat there, intertwined in blood and clinging limbs, Hannibal memorized the intricacies of the sight before him. He memorized the drained, but loving look in Will’s eyes. The porcelain, blood-drained pallor of his skin. The dark, bloody cornucopia his broken ribs formed, upturned around his heart. And for the first time since he was a child, Hannibal felt truly satisfied. 

Filled to the brim with adoration, Hannibal pressed a gentle kiss to Will’s icy, chapped lips and was surprised to find that Will had the strength to kiss back. He ran a hand through Will’s curls, doing his best to quiet him in his final moments, before retreating back. It was time. It was finally time to lay his precious Will to rest. Reaching into Will’s chest, Hannibal curled both hands around his heart. He held it for a moment, feeling the frantic, fluttering beats as it rested in his hands. The psychiatrist squeezed Will’s heart gently, offering him sweet caresses as he beheld the seat of Will’s love for him and lavishing him with an internal cardiac massage. But soon enough, Hannibal knew this needed to end. If not for his own sake, then for Will’s. 

Holding the scalpel tight in his slick hands, Hannibal severed the veins and arteries that kept Will’s heart secure in his chest. Without his heart, he watched Will begin to spasm, body yearning for that pumping push and pull it required for survival. But there was no survival—not anymore. Not while Hannibal held Will’s heart in his hands, cradling it close to his chest as its beat began to slow and finally died, no longer a part of Will, but a part of Hannibal. But even in death, Will’s heart held that residual warmth. That all encompassing feeling of all that was so innately Will. And surrounded by that warmth, Hannibal fell to his knees and cried.

***

> _ I arise from the fiery pit, nursing a rabid hunger that eats away at my stomach and at my humanity. The first person I come across will be my ceremonial meal. This is my design. I smell the smoky flavor of fear on the air as I rise from the ash, a ravenous soul without a body. My teeth are in the stranger’s neck before I am even aware that I am alive. This is not a fatal wound. The teeth miss every artery. He’s paralyzed before I allow him to drop to the ground… which doesn’t mean he can’t feel pain. It just means he can’t do anything about it. This is my design.  _

Hannibal let out a groan of pleasure as he came between Will’s thighs, holding onto his hips so tight his skin would have bruised were there still blood pumping through his veins. It was still so satisfying to lay with Will, even with his organs harvested and his soul passed on to the netherworld. But as Hannibal separated himself from his love, he could feel a sharp pair of eyes on his back. Someone was there, watching him as he made love to Will’s corpse. The psychiatrist shot up with a start, covering himself as he turned to see a tall figure, eyes glowing an icy blue in the dark. 

“Someone looks like they’ve been enjoying themselves, Doctor Lecter,” the figure said with a dark chuckle as it came into the room, each step as silent as the night. The voice sounded a little more tired. A little more cynical. But Hannibal knew that voice anywhere. 

“Will?” Hannibal asked, unable to believe what he was seeing. But it was true. Will Graham stood there before him, a shadow of his former self, present before the man that had killed him. Hannibal was certain he must have been seeing things, that he must have finally snapped under the pressure of all the horrible things he’d done, but for whatever reason he was seeing his beloved Will again, alive and well. Or—perhaps undead. “But you’re supposed to be—”

“Dead? I’m aware. But you know, I just couldn’t wait to see you again.” There was a predatory framing to Will’s movement. Hannibal saw it as a reflection of himself in a way. That’s how he had once looked while on the hunt, during a time when he wasn’t so fat and happy, resting on his laurels and feasting on the flesh of his lover.

“And what do you plan to do, now that you’ve seen me?” Hannibal’s words gave Will pause, and he stopped stalking forward for a moment before replying.

“Would you like to know what Hell is like?” Will asked, his eyes becoming steely as Hannibal stood there, frozen in place and half dressed. “It’s not all the fire and brimstone you’re warned about. No, the real thing is far worse than anyone could have ever imagined. Because the one thing that’s so much worse than being punished through physical pain and torture is being tortured by your past mistakes. Things that you were unable to stop from happening. That you inherently  _ caused _ .” A shudder went down Will’s ethereal spine, and he took a breath. “They used Abigail to hurt me, Hannibal.”

A pang of something Hannibal didn’t often feel shot through his heart like a bullet. Guilt. He was the one that had sent Will to suffer in the afterlife while he spent his time, caught up in the little piece of heaven he’d cut away for himself. The psychiatrist cleared his throat, eyes unable to meet Will’s glowing irises for a time. But once they finally did, once Hannibal looked up and met Will’s gaze with one of pity. 

“And now it seems that no one will be able to hurt you again. Tell me, did you crawl out of Hell yourself? Or did you have help?”

“I’m not just gonna tell you how I escaped.” The grin on Will’s face turned more feral as he continued his approach, causing Hannibal to back away. He retreated until he nearly tripped over Will’s corpse, then pressing himself back against the frigid basement wall. Will followed up until the point he reached his own body, quickly dipping back into his own flesh. He made himself whole once again, rising to his feet in a single, wobbly motion, as if he were struggling to put on and move within his person suit. The body’s movements were hollow as it approached once again, unpracticed and childish as Will accommodated for the lack of certain organs and muscles within his body. Just another example of what Hannibal had taken from him. “You’ll need to find that out for yourself.”

With one sudden movement, Will lunged at Hannibal, quickly trapping him beneath the full weight of his body. He may have been a bit clumsy at the moment, but Hannibal could see it in his eyes that Will was on a mission. The resurrected profiler reached up to the wall, grabbing the very same knife that Hannibal had butchered him with. Running the smooth of it across Hannibal’s skin, Will began to add pressure, teasing a cut to Hannibal’s perfect flesh. Hannibal didn’t even dare to breathe, worried that the rise and fall of his chest would cause Will to slice him open right then and there. 

“Will, you don’t need to do this—” Will cut Hannibal off by pressing the knife to his throat, his grip tensing on the handle.

“Oh, but I do. You see, I learned something during my time in Hell,  _ darling _ . I’ve learned that fair is fair, and it’s your turn to meet your maker.” Without giving Hannibal the chance to react, Will lifted the knife from his throat and plunged it into Hannibal’s chest, parting skin and nicking ribs before pulling the knife out and stabbing him again. And again. And again. With each pass, Hannibal let out another distressed howl, doing his best to push Will away, but Will held him down with a supernatural strength, keeping Hannibal pinned to the wall as the cannibal’s blood clothed the two of them in its crimson hue.

“Does it relieve you to know that an afterlife exists? Or does it make you all the more frightened of what’s to come when you reach the other side?” Will asked as he dug the knife in further, twisting it deep inside of Hannibal’s chest and causing him to scream in utter agony. This was not the painless death Hannibal had given Will. Instead, this was something much darker. Far more vengeful than anything Hannibal had ever imagined for Will. In a way, Will’s darkness was the most beautiful thing Hannibal had ever seen. To think that a man such as he could drive Will to such passionate emotion, to bring him back to his side even from the jaws of death. It was enough for him to abide the pain, taking it in stride as a necessary evil. 

“It does relieve me. Because now, I know that when I return there will never be a moment where the two of us will have to be apart.” Hearing that caused Hannibal’s hellish partner to smile, even as he drove the knife into Hannibal’s body once again, slicing open his belly just as Hannibal had once done to him and allowing his bowels to spill out and onto the floor. There was no respect for the  _ meat,  _ Hannibal noticed amidst that fiery pain that rose up and choked his voice, threatening to swallow him whole. But Will was never in this for the food. Instead, he was in it for the thrill of the hunt, the intense feeling of adrenaline that followed a fresh kill, and the satisfaction that came with knowing that he’d overpowered another human being. He would never admit it to himself, of course, but Hannibal had seen it clear as day.

“Should I beg you to profess your love to me now?” Will asked as Hannibal’s legs began to wobble, unable to hold himself up as Will continued to stab and twist his knife.

“You would never need to,” Hannibal began, coughing up a moderate amount of blood and slowly slipping to the floor. “I offer you my love freely. You would never need to beg for something like that, Will. Because I love you and have always loved you unconditionally.” As Hannibal stared up at Will, eyes glistening with tears of pain and love, he gathered his bowels up in his arms and watched as Will slowly stooped to his level. He offered his love a bleeding smile, his body throbbing with a feral, living pain.

“Even now, with my knife ready to pierce your heart and end your life out of something akin to base revenge, you’d still love me?” Will asked, furrowing his brows as if he couldn’t believe that such a thing was possible, much less from Hannibal. But as Hannibal’s hands clasped over Will’s and poised the knife above his heart he smiled, tears streaming down his pale cheeks.

“Even now.” With that, Hannibal plunged the knife into his own heart, saving Will from the suffering of ending his lover’s life. 

_ Until we meet again. _


End file.
